The Space In Between
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: When they sleep alone, the world closes in on them. M/M Sorry it's so short and fluffy.


I had to write this. I'm sorry, i just needed a break from the INTENSE depression of the A-Team fic I'm currently working on (which I'm really pleased with so far, don't get me wrong). Wow, this is the first non-R fic I've written in ages. Sorry about that. It just kind of happened. Reviews keep Cougar from sniping me!

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When Jensen sleeps alone, he takes up every possible inch of space on the bed, limbs thrown haphazardly about him, tangled in the sheets. He sleeps like he's in a coma, usually after 48-hour bouts of info-hunting on his laptop (about 30% of which is spent surfing porn). He takes off everything but his briefs, setting his glasses and a photo of his sister and niece on whatever will serve as a nightstand. He sleeps with the glow and hum of his computer as nightlight and lullaby, making little noises like he's having a conversation with himself. When he sleeps, he is dead to the world, because he knows he's safe. He trusts his companions to watch out for him; that's why he's still alive.

When Cougar sleeps alone, he does so the way he does everything: tense and wary, arms folded across his chest, hat pulled down over his eyes so you can't really tell if he's awake or not. He lays on his back, legs crossed, on top of the blankets, a gun always within reach, a pillow propping him up in semi-sitting position. That's if he's sleeping in a bed; more often he just sits against a wall and dozes off for five minutes at a time before the screams wake him. He never sleeps unprotected, never turns his back to the world because he knows someone will stab it. He never allows himself to feel safe; that's why he's still alive.

When Jensen sleeps with Cougar, he molds himself to the contours of the sniper's body. He wraps every limb around the other man like a hacker octopus, making himself small and quiet. He turns off his computer; the only sound he wants to hear is Cougar's heartbeat, the slow tide of his breath. Jensen lets his brain shut down, lets all the statistics and snarky comments and plans and fears bleed away and just _feels_. He buries his face in Cougar's hair, runs his hands over Cougar's body, inhales Cougar's air. He loses himself in everything Cougar, and it's the greatest thing he's ever done. This, what happens between the two of them, is better than hacking, better than bringing down some giant corporation with the touch of a button, better than (though he won't admit it) the idea of having telekinetic powers. He wants to share everything with the sniper, wants him to meet his sister, to go to a Petunias game with him, to live only for the warmth of his body.

Someday, he'll tell Cougar all of this.

When Cougar sleeps with Jensen, he does so under the blankets. He lets the hacker throw his vest, bandanna, pants, shoes, over his shoulder. Jensen knows better than to touch the hat, though, and Cougar is grateful for the shadows of it, hiding his expression, the raw emotion in his eyes when they fuck (he tells himself it's just fucking, that it's not really making love unless someone says the word 'love'). They always sleep in a bed when they are together; the first time Cougar tried to sit against the wall after they had sex, Jensen followed him, wrapped around his waist, onto the floor. The sniper couldn't handle the little unhappy sounds that his friend made at being "abandoned" as he called it. So they sleep in a bed. And Cougar lets the hacker wrap their bodies together like puzzle pieces, lets himself be rolled onto his side, lets his arms move around Jensen's shoulders as the other man's hands smooth over his back, down his chest, through his hair. He lets himself sleep, really sleep, and the sound of Jensen's heartbeat, strong and steady and alive drowns out the screams. The warmth of Jensen's body melts the cold feeling of the darkness. He rests his cheek against the younger man's, feels the soft brush of Jensen's breath against his as the hacker plants one last kiss to his lips before cuddling closer and drifting off. Cougar loses himself, loses the screams and blood and cold corpses, in Jensen, and it scares him because it's the greatest thing he's ever done. What he does, how he feels, when he's with the computer genius, is better than picking off some impossible target, better than a hot shower after a week in a foxhole, better than (though he won't admit it) the thought of what they'll do to Max once they catch him. He wants to be part of the hacker's perfect world, wants to meet his sister and niece, is even willing to sit through a Petunias game or two (or three). If Jensen asked, Cougar would let him take the hat off. Maybe even let him wear it.

Someday, he'll tell Jensen all of this.


End file.
